The Personal Toll
by gawilliams
Summary: Booth decides to give Bones the training that a potential sniper undergoes in order to give her an understanding of his inner demons from his time as an Army sniper.
1. Chapter 1

_I've always wondered if Bones knew, truly knew, what it cost Booth deep inside to be a sniper, despite his own admission of the importance of what he did in the military. In this two chapter story Booth decides to show Bones the cost to a person, a good person, who takes a life by way of being a sniper. I hope you enjoy this one. Gregg._

_Disclaimer: I don't own, or profit from, these characters or franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

Booth was in the office of his old friend, and former commanding officer, Brigadier General Tom Harding. He was making an odd request, but it was something he felt was necessary.

"You want to train your partner to be a sniper?" Harding asked, somewhat surprised. Booth was a damn good senior NCO and also a dependable friend, so there had to be a good reason behind the request.

"Yes, Sir, but not exactly," Booth replied. Then he sighed. "Bones is a good shot, and has a respect for life, and the victims of tragedy, that is way above anything I've ever seen. But she doesn't understand, or recognize, the difference in cost between taking a life in self-defense, and taking a life from the position of a sniper. To her, they're the same, or so it seems from what she's said at times. Death is death and sometimes shit happens. Now that we're together, I want her to be able to understand my demons, and what my military service cost me inside."

Harding gave it some thought for a minute. It was his base and training facility, so the decision was his. He mentally went over the training schedules for the next few weeks and knew that there were some range areas that could be used by Booth and his partner, and the more classroom related material could be covered by Booth away from the base. As Booth regularly updated his qualifications on the off chance he may come back on duty Harding didn't have a problem with it.

"Alright," he said finally. "I'll e-mail you the range schedules and you can let me know when you want access."

Booth stood. "Thanks, General," he said and offered his hand. He almost saluted, but as he was not in the Army anymore, he simply offered the hand.

_**Later That Night**_

"Hey, Bones, I need to talk to you for a minute," Booth said as he slid into bed with her. The warm contentment he normally felt when in bed with her, even when they weren't doing anything, was eluding him.

Bones put down the anthropology journal she was reading and looked at him. "What's wrong?" she asked, noting the tenseness in him.

"Remember the day when Vincent was killed?" he asked her.

Bones hid the shudder that went through her body. It was one of the most horrible days of her life, yet also one of the best days of her life considering that she and Booth finally bridged the gap between them and became a couple. She nodded. "Of course," she replied.

"We argued about who should be on the couch and who should be on the bed," Booth reminded her anyway. "You said something that's bothered me ever since."

Bones frowned. She replayed the conversation in her mind. "I don't know what you mean," she told him.

"You said I have to kill Broadsky," he told her.

"Booth, Broadsky needed to be stopped," she said, still confused.

"I know," he said, sighing. "But you said I _**have to**_ kill him. There's a difference, Bones."

"I'm not sure I understand," she admitted.

"I know, and I'm not upset with you," he assured her. "But it does make me wonder if you understand how far my inner demons run when I use my sniper skills as opposed to simply using a gun in self-defense, or defending someone else."

"I know it's hard for you whenever you've had to take a life," she offered. She knew he went to confession whenever he had to use his gun against another person regardless if a life was taken, and that when he did take a life he was emotionally broken for days afterward as he tried to deal with it. She always felt so inadequate as a friend, and now as his lover, when something like that was dragging him down emotionally.

"True," he told her. "But I want you to understand the difference. I think it's important for you to understand a very big part of me, and some of the inner turmoil that I live with."

Bones suddenly understood what he was doing. Early on in their partnership he had told her that partners shared things with each other. Later on he had said that couples shared even more. While he had given her glimpses into the pain he felt when he took a life, and he had spoken a little about being a sniper and his desire to atone for his work as one, he had never shared the depth of his troubles. She had never pushed, but it seemed that he was ready now.

"I'm not very good at understanding emotions," she pointed out, quietly, but firmly because she wanted him to know that while she was wanting to know what it was he had to tell her, she was also nervous about possibly not understanding, and possibly hurting or disappointing him by that lack of understanding.

"I think what I have in mind you'll understand," he told her. "I'm going to give you the training that a sniper and also a spotter are given to be qualified as a military sniper. I'm going to forgo the map reading, compass guided field work, and PT as I know you're more than capable of all that, but I am going to work with you on the calculation side, best shot location determinations, and all the preparation elements of being a sniper. Then will come the actual sniping where we will go out and you will qualify with the weapon of choice, and then we will go and place a target. You will be spotter for me, and then you will be the shooter."

She knew he was not talking an actual live target, but something that could take the place of a living person. In some ways it excited her as it would be one more skill in her arsenal of taking care of herself and also helping keep him safe when the situation warranted. On the other hand it was a deadly serious skill that she was a bit unnerved being excited over.

"When do we start?" she asked.

"We're on vacation for the next three weeks, so I figured that we could use that time for this," he replied. "Among other things," he added, winking at her with a knowing charm smile.

Bones chuckled. "There better be **_a lot_** of those other things," she said with a flash of her eyes and a flare of her nostrils. "And you better plan on some strenuous physical activity in the bedroom. You know how I am when I'm learning a new skill."

Booth chuckled, too. When she was focusing on learning something she always got tense. Sex was an excellent tension reliever, and he knew she had not had a lover since the deep sea welder guy three years before until she decided that she was ready to give good old Seeley Booth a try in the relationship department. Three years of pent up tension had only barely been tapped so far, so he could imagine what the next three weeks was going to be like outside of his training her. Yep. This was going to be one very nice vacation, especially if she finished it with a better understanding of what his demons were, and why she was so important to him in that regard. He loved her deeply, but from the moment he had met her, she had also given him something tangible to focus on to keep the demons at bay. First as a partner, then as a friend, now as a lover and the mother of his unborn child. He was being given a second chance as a Father and he was deeply grateful, not only to God, but to her, as well. The fact that Parker loved it that he was now dating Bones was an added bonus.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he told her. "Now how about a little preview of the _**strenuous activities**_?" he suggested, waggling his brows in invitation.

Bones threw the covers off of them and pulled off her oversized T-shirt, giving him a lusty leer. "Someone is a bit overdressed," she commented with an exaggerated glance at his boxers.

_A/N: There's chapter one which explains what is going on. The second chapter, which will finish the story will be where Bones has progressed in the training and they are on the range with a target. I hope you enjoyed this one. Gregg._


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm glad the first chapter went over as well as it has. I was curious to see if this one would be to everyone's liking. I have decided to make this a three chapter story, and I hope that you all enjoy this second installment. It's deeper than most of what I write. Gregg._

_Disclaimer: I don't own, or profit from, these characters or franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

Booth had trained people to be snipers before. He had done so out of duty, not out of a desire to turn someone into a sniper. He recognized the need for snipers from a military standpoint, and also from a need to make sure that someone who is untouchable, that needs to be removed from certain situations, is eliminated. It didn't take away from the emotional costs, but he did understand the need. Now he was training Bones. That was something that he had never thought would happen, but once he got into the training, he knew it was the right thing to do.

He began the training by going over the material that had nothing to do with any particular weapon, though that would figure in soon. That was learning to go over intelligence files on potential targets, examining possible locations for conducting the op, learning to identify multiple ingress and egress points, and various methods of camouflage depending on location and surroundings. Bones began to understand just how complicated and detailed the work was.

He also began working with her on developing her senses, especially her hearing. The main issue was sound differentiation, and training yourself to phase out the sounds you expect and focus on the ones that signify potential hazards. He also worked with her on silent approaches, and that was a fun couple of days as he took her to various locations with different types of ground cover and potential items that produce alerting sounds.

Booth had to admit after the first two weeks that Bones was an exceptional student. Not that he expected anything different as she was the most brilliant person he knew. Her photographic memory was also a huge benefit, especially when it came to going over intelligence and examining photo imaging.

Then came dealing with the weapons. He first instructed her, without any near them, of the main weapons of choice for snipers. Then he chose three that he wanted her to be able to use. The first one was .338 Lapua Magnum. The second was the M110 SASS .308. The final one, and he hesitated, but he wanted her to know what snipers were capable of, was the M107 LRSR .50 caliber. During this, he lectured on what a two person team did, and how they each had defined roles to play, but it was also a very symbiotic relationship in how the objectives were achieved. He noted with a grim, but pleased, satisfaction that she paid especially close attention to the elements of what made for a successful two person team. In many ways he hoped that it confirmed for her that their own professional partnership had some seriously well developed elements in other settings.

When he felt she had learned as much in class as she could, he deemed them ready for the field. He called up General Harding and arranged to have one of the field sniper ranges reserved for the following week. Bones, he could see, was beginning to see the seriousness in all this, and her wariness was beginning to show. He had a feeling that he knew what it was, but he wanted to wait until she had shot the weapons at a target before discussing it with her.

"Do most military snipers make their own ammunition?" Bones asked one evening a couple of days before they were going to go on the field range.

"Quite a few do," he replied, closing the magazine he'd been reading. In his minds eye he saw himself preparing his own ammunition for each of the missions he'd been on as a sniper. They were not some of his fonder memories.

"Did you?" she asked, pressing further.

It was a legitimate question, and he was not going to hold back that kind of information. "Yeah, I did," he told her. "But not for the reason you may think." He paused for a moment before continuing. Many snipers made their own rounds because it assured them of what they were firing, rather than be dependent on some factory model round, but his reason was different. "I had personal issues about being a sniper even before I went on my first mission, so I decided to learn how to make my own rounds so that no one but myself had blood on their hands. It may sound a bit ridiculous, but it was how I felt."

"Teach me," she said, a serious glimmer in her eyes as she said that.

Booth looked at her and saw that she was not going to take no for an answer. Sighing, he nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll show you how tomorrow, and you will make the rounds for the three weapons that you'll be using."

The next day Booth spent the morning showing Bones how to make her own ammunition. He carefully made sure she understood the exact calculations for the load and how to make sure that the pressure utilized in pressing the projectile with the casing was done precisely and safely. The way he explained it was that it was similar to how she worked on her bones. There were precise methods and calculations that had to be taken into account in order that accidents that could result in injury, or faulty results, were avoided. He could tell that she was beginning to appreciate the scientific nature of the whole business. He only hoped that by the end of it she understood the inner aspects of what all this meant, too.

That afternoon he went to see the one person he would ordinarily avoid like the plague on such subjects. Sweets. His nerves were ramped up a bit knowing that the next day would be the day he took her to the field range and spent a couple of days working with her on moving with stealth in the field, and also to get a better appreciation for ones surroundings. He was also going to have her outfitted in military field fatigues with all the accouterments that he ordinarily had with him when on a mission calling on his skills as a sniper.

"So, what can I do for you, Booth?" Sweets asked, taking a seat in front of the man he genuinely admired, yet feared all at the same time.

Booth laid out what he was doing with Bones, and why. He appreciated the fact that Sweets let him get it all out without interrupting. Then he asked his one question. "It's probably too late in the day, but am I way off base with this?" he asked.

"Do you have nightmares about your experiences in the military, specifically your missions as a sniper?" Sweets asked. He'd never really asked anything like this of Booth before, but this was too important to let go, and Booth had opened the door.

"I don't know a person who's ever been in combat that doesn't have nightmares, Sweets," Booth told him, giving him a look that told the younger man to tread carefully. He knew that he had been the one to open this whole can of worms by coming here, but he was still wary of Sweets even though he knew it was his own damn fault for pressing Bones that one night in front of the Hoover.

"Have you had any nightmares since you and Dr. Brennan became involved?" Sweets asked, getting a bit more direct.

The whole deal with Broadsky had brought a lot of old personal wounds to the surface, and some nightmares. Nothing so serious as to disturb Bones, but he had had some nights that had been tougher than others.

"Yeah," he reluctantly admitted.

"Dr. Brennan is very hands on," Sweets began to speak in his professional mode. "Because of her difficulties identifying with emotional issues, she relies on empirical evidence to create those identifying points. By showing her what a sniper does, you may be able to give her a tangible look into what drives your nightmares, nightmares which could have an impact on the long term stability of your relationship."

"So, I'm right?" Booth asked, deliberately wanting this dumbed down.

"Yes," Sweets replied.

"Good," Booth said, but still sat there brooding. He decided to ask the question that was really bothering him. "Sweets. I know this is going to be opening up a lot of old demons in me. Bones is going to want to talk about a lot. What if I'm not ready?"

"Who's the one person you trust above all others?" Sweets asked him.

"Bones," Booth said, his tone making it sound as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world.

"Then shouldn't you be willing to show that trust, especially now that you are in a serious relationship with her, by being willing to answer her questions about your past that you've generally avoided before?" Sweets questioned, slightly on the rhetorical side.

Booth despised the fact that once again he was listening to Sweets doling out relationship advice, but on this one he was willing to listen. The kid was right. He should trust Bones enough to talk to her openly about these things. When she finished her "field training" that week he would talk with her. Until then he would go back to being the teacher and make sure that she ended up being very adept at what a sniper does. He stood up.

"Thanks, Sweets," he said, leaving the still surprised Sweets to his own shrinky thoughts.

_A/N: I should have the final chapter done and posted day after tomorrow. I hope you enjoyed this one, despite it being more on the serious side. Gregg._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you for the response to the second chapter. Here is the final chapter to this one, and I hope that it is as engaging for you as the first two. Gregg._

_Disclaimer: I don't own, or profit from, these characters or franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

Kitting out Bones the next morning at the range had been rather fun in his opinion. Camouflage fatigues, harness, commo equipment (personal gear as opposed to full on unit), knife, small amount of explosives, and ammunition, along with rations for three days. Then came the weapons. He decided on one weapon to take with them while working with her on stealth in the field, and so they broke it down and packed it in the necessary field equipment bags. The one thing he enjoyed was putting on the camouflage paint on her face, like he did his own camo paint. He placed an oversized bandana on her head, tying it in a sturdy way, like he did his own.

"Sexy, Bones," he said with a mock wolf whistle.

"You look sexy, I look ridiculous," Bones told him as she shifted a bit to get used to the clothing and equipment on her person.

"No," he told her. "You look like a soldier." His tone was serious. He wanted her to understand that while they could joke a bit, this was serious. How you hid yourself was just as important as all other aspects of the work.

Bones took in his ranger tabs, jump wings, CIB (second award), and rank insignia patches on his camo fatigues. She was proud of him for having earned those insignia, but she also was well aware that they meant nothing to him as he was just doing his job (in his opinion) just like the accolades he got in the FBI he didn't make a big deal out of for the same reason.

"Sergeant Major Booth?" a Captain said as he came over to them.

"Yes, Sir," Booth snapped to attention and saluted crisply. He wasn't on active duty, but he had a uniform on, so he gave the respect due an officer.

"I'm Captain Rollins," the young man said as he returned the salute. He nodded at the woman in camo gear next to Booth. "General Harding informed me of what's going on, and we have this field range closed for your use this week. If you need anything, or we can be of assistance, let me know. I'm the range officer this week."

"I think we have everything covered, but if need be I'll let you know, Sir," Booth told the officer.

"As you were," the Captain nodded and returned the salute Booth gave him.

Bones had to admit that she got a certain thrill of arousal seeing Booth turn all military and proper like that when the Captain approached them. But that wasn't important right then. What was was what they were there to do that day.

For two days Booth worked with her on stealthy approaches, and showed her how to make sure that a trail was not left behind. He would plant her in a spot and then tell her that he would be approaching from some place and she should try and see if she could detect him. By the end of the second day she was fairly proficient and was able to detect his approach about 60% of the time. He worked with her on using ground cover and surrounding resources for shelter and camouflage. When the two days were up, he declared her ready for the next step. He wanted to show her the intricacies of being a spotter for a sniper in a two man team.

Booth marveled at how she approached the spotter function. Using modern spotter scopes and tech she dove right in and became an expert on determining distance, wind direction, wind speed, and calculating the proper adjustments needed to make the shot. He also worked with her on noting surrounding issues so that when the shot had been taken, silent escape was possible. She had it down to a science, and as she was a scientist he wasn't too surprised.

"1,345 yards, winds north by northeast at 10 mph, negligible variance," Bones said as she lay down next to Booth looking through the spotter scope.

"Got it," Booth said softly as he made a quick, slight adjustment to the scope on the sniper rifle he was using. "Clear for shot?" he asked.

"Clear," she told him.

Booth took a steady, cleansing breath, held it, and lightly pulled the trigger. The retort of the rifle was an old, familiar sound and feel as he felt the projectile being hurtled through the barrel of the rifle and towards the target. He saw the shot hit dead on through his scope, but waited for the official word from his spotter.

"Target eliminated," Bones said, a calm, almost flat, tone to her voice.

Booth noted the tone, and knew she was beginning to understand. He wasn't ready to discuss it with her yet as she needed to take some shots herself, but he could see that the conversation would end up much better than he had originally imagined it would.

The final day out on the range was spent with Bones taking three shots, one each with each of the three sniper rifles he had chosen for her. The final one, with the .50 caliber, was the final piece of evidence that Booth needed to know that Bones was ready. All her shots had been dead on, but the last one had been with a special scope that allowed her to make out the target through a cinder block wall. It had been a devastating example of what snipers were capable of. Bones' face had been ashen when she saw it through the rifle scope.

"How did it go, Sergeant Major?" General Harding was waiting for them when they made their way to the entrance to the range and Booth's SUV.

Booth came to attention and saluted, as he was still in uniform. "Very good, Sir," he said with a bit of pride laced in. He was always proud at Bones' successes, and while he would never have wanted her to have anything to do with sniping, he couldn't help be proud of what she'd accomplished in just three short weeks. "Bones, this is Brigadier General Harding," he introduced her to the older man. "General, this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"It's a pleasure, Doctor Brennan," Harding said with a genuine smile and an offer of his hand. He shook hers as she held her own out. "Sergeant Booth has spoken of you often."

"Thank you, General," Bones replied politely. Booth had told her about General Harding, and the upstanding officer he was. Booth didn't hand out compliments lightly, so this must be a good man.

"If you would excuse us for a moment, Dr. Brennan, I need to speak with Sergeant Booth privately," Harding requested.

"Certainly," Bones replied. She looked at Booth. "I'll take the rifles to the armory and log them in," she told him.

Booth didn't like her doing all that by herself, but he simply nodded. Harding wanted to speak with him, and he didn't want Bones here any longer than necessary. He turned to Harding and walked away with him.

"Do you think this worked, Booth?" Harding asked when they were a little ways away.

"Frankly?" Booth asked. "I'm not sure, Sir. All the signs are there, but I won't know until I talk to her."

Harding nodded in understanding. "For your sake I hope it does, Booth," Harding replied. "I know from Hank Latrell that you still don't talk much about the past. You've got a lot of friends, Booth, me included, who worry about you. If all this allows you to have someone you feel comfortable talking to, then it was worth it to me to open the range to a civilian."

"Two civilians, Sir," Booth said, a hint of a smile forming. He never failed to remind Harding of his current status.

"If I had had it my way all those years ago you would have taken that commission and you'd be my G-3, or probably my Chief-of-Staff by now," Harding told him firmly, but with genuine friendship.

"You know why I turned it down," Booth told him. Then he looked over at Bones coming back from the armory. He pointed over at her. "And if I had, I wouldn't have ever met her. I'd give up everything for her, General. That's why this is so important to me."

Harding looked over at the woman in question. "From what I've heard about her from you and others, and now seeing her in person, I don't blame you," he said with a chuckle. He patted Booth on the shoulder. "Don't be a stranger, Booth, and if there's ever anything else I can do for you, let me know."

"Thanks, General," Booth said as he came to attention and saluted. He was glad when his friend returned it. It may not seem like much, but the respect inherent in the salute on both sides of it was important to him, and had a lot of depth of meaning for him.

On the drive back to DC Booth drove in silence, allowing Bones to process her thoughts. He knew she was concentrating hard on something. That telltale sign that was a combination of an eery silence, plus the slightly pinched look on her face were dead giveaways. When that was the case he knew the best thing to do was let her collect her thoughts. She would talk when she was ready.

His own silence was rewarded when they got to the apartment. He hadn't even closed the door behind them and taken off his camo jacket when she turned on him, a worried look on her face.

"Can we talk?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"How about I get us a beer and we can sit down in the living room and talk?" he suggested, giving her a knowing, reassuring look. He'd noticed the hesitancy in her voice, and knew she was nervous that he wouldn't want to discuss anything related to the previous three weeks. He went to the kitchen when she nodded, a slight sigh if relief escaping her lips. When he came back out with the two bottles of beer he saw that she was sitting on the couch waiting for him. "Here you go," he said as he handed her her beer.

Bones took a deep drink of the cool liquid and looked at Booth. "I don't know if asking this is alright or not, especially as I never really said anything right when we were after Broadsky and he was trying to kill someone in the bathroom of the Federal Courthouse," she said, still having the nervous look and hesitancy.

Booth took her hand in his free one and squeezed. "I know what you were trying to do then, Bones," he told her. "It's okay. Just ask your question."

"How could you become a sniper?" she asked. "You're a very good person, Booth, the best person that I know, and with how I feel right now after this week and the prior two weeks, I don't understand. I feel about myself like I do towards the murderers we find who acted with premeditation, and I didn't shoot at anyone. Killing in self-defense is one thing, like when I shot and killed Pam Nunan, but this is...horrible..." She frowned at the emotional imprecision of the word, but it was the only one that made sense.

"It wasn't easy, Bones," he replied after a moment. She was feeling precisely what he felt when he went through the actual training, which was a hell of a lot longer than simply a three week crash course. "In fact, I'm ashamed of what it took to get me to decide that I could do the work of a sniper without losing my personal moral foundation."

"I don't understand," she told him.

"When I went into the military I had a lot of anger built up inside," he told her. He felt her squeeze his hand in sympathy, and he knew she was well aware of what the anger was from. "Pops had been a God send, Bones, and gave me a few years of knowing what a family should be, but that didn't take away the anger I felt at my own Dad over what he put my Mom, me and Jared through. When I finished the training, and had several assignment options, only one of which was as a sniper, I took a short leave and found my Dad."

Bones' eyes widened. She didn't say anything, but given what she knew about his Father, she was not sure she wanted to hear this. She listened anyway. If Booth had taught her anything over the years, it was that when you love someone, you love them no matter how difficult it may be at times. There were some exceptions to that, but this was definitely not one of them.

"I didn't confront him, or even let him know I had found him," Booth said, his eyes focused on a point on the far wall. "I observed him for about a week and then I set up a shot at him. I had him lined up in my sights, Bones. A direct kill shot. I could see in my mind all the times he'd hurt us, Bones. I could see how much it hurt Pops to know what a piece of garbage his own son was."

"You couldn't shoot him," Bones said softly.

"I couldn't shoot him," Booth nodded. "Not because I didn't feel he deserved it, or that I saw something that told me he had changed. I couldn't do it because it wasn't my decision to make. No one had sanctioned him dying. No one had given me an order to kill him. It was right then that I understood the difference between being a sniper and being a murderer. It allowed me to become a sniper, but it also kept me from becoming hardened like Broadsky. Every time I took a life, I knew it was sanctioned, and the intel I had on them justified the orders. I felt the cold reality that I had killed someone every time, and I hated myself for that, but I wasn't a murderer."

"My statement bothered you because no one had sanctioned killing Broadsky, and it seemed like I was telling you to be the judge, jury, and executioner," Bones suddenly understood. She understood why he trained her in the ways of a sniper. It both strengthened her, but humbled her as well, realizing the personal sacrifice he had made in doing so. He'd let down a major wall like she had in allowing what they had to become more than just friends.

Booth nodded. "I have nightmares, Bones," he admitted to her. "Sometimes about missions I had, and sometimes about things that never happened. I owed it to you to let you understand why. You deserved to know."

Bones had learned the painful lesson that having someone to talk to about distressing issues helped. Normally she had Booth as a sounding board, and other times Angela. On rare occasions she would talk to Sweets. "Is there anyone you talk to about the nightmares?" she asked.

"I showed you all this, and am talking about this right now because I was hoping you would be willing to be someone I can talk to when I'm having some problems," he told her, trying not to let her see how nervous he was about asking that. Her views of psychology were well known, and this was psychology at its best.

Bones had a mental debate. She knew what she had to do, though. "You once told me that partners share," she told him. "It took me a long time to understand that. Now we're in a romantic relationship. I would think that the sharing should be even more profound, and serious. I know that when I have a problem the first person I want to talk to is you. I would hope that you would feel safe enough to come to me when you have issues. You've given me the ability to understand, in a small way, what being a sniper did to you inside. I want to be the person you come to when those years, or anything, troubles you."

"I want that, too, Bones," he told her, very glad that she understood. Her depth of understanding was staggering.

"I'm sorry I made you feel like that when I said that about Broadsky," she told him. "It was insensitive and wrong."

"Well, he _**did**_ have to be stopped," Booth told her, letting her know he wasn't angry. Not then, and not now.

"Booth?" Bones asked when she felt the time for a bit of levity was right.

"Hmm?" Booth turned his head to face her. He knew the conversation was over for now, so he was wondering what was on the agenda now.

"Now that you've trained me we well as a sniper, I think I should reapply to have a handgun when we are in the field," she told him.

"And I won't stand in your way when you fill out the papers, Bones, but you should know one thing," he told her.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I have five new DENIED stamps ready to use," he teased, loving the pout and her sticking her tongue out at him when he said it. He knew she had a point, though, and even though a lot of good had come from him training her as a sniper, there was a personal toll. This time the toll was worrying about her having a handgun, likely her cannon, on her when they were going after the bad guys. Looking at her, though, he knew the cost was worth it, for the simple reason that it was her. It all boiled down to that.

_A/N: Well, there it is. I hope you all enjoyed this one. Thank you for the reviews and comments. Gregg._


End file.
